


Mutism

by DelektorskiChick



Series: Kintsukuroi Universe [3]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And angst, Angst, F/M, I'm so sorry, M/M, Miscarriage, Multi, alpha!Parker, beta!Alec Hardison, lots and lots of, omega!Eliot Spencer, this one is all plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 20:52:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelektorskiChick/pseuds/DelektorskiChick
Summary: [He] woke suddenly, shockingly out of the sound sleep that he only ever reached with [them] both, grunting in pain. It took him several hard breaths to be able to focus. He hadn’t felt pain like this in a long time....remember those little plot bunnies? They didn't stop at one story idea. I am so, so, SO sorry.





	1. Eliot

**Author's Note:**

> Mutism, elective - Complete lack of speech (mutism) that is believed to be volitional (willed) on the part of the patient. True elective mutism may be a reaction to a traumatic event, the aftermath of an injury to the mouth or throat, particularly if it is painful, or a symptom of extreme shyness. The word "mutism' comes from the Latin "mutus" meaning unable to speak.

Eliot woke suddenly, shockingly out of the sound sleep that he only ever reached with both Hardison and Parker, grunting in pain. It took him several hard breaths to be able to focus. He hadn’t felt pain like this in a long time, and it took precious seconds for him to realize the pains were internal and not external. He breathed in sharply, but it must not have been as quiet as he’d thought, because Parker was instantly awake, hovering near him, and Hardison wasn’t far behind.

“Easy, Eliot, easy.” Hardison’s calm voice, slow and sleepy centered him, helped him focus.

Until the next wave washed over him, drowning him in agony. Eliot whimpered, tucking his knees up to his abdomen and cringing. One arm wrapped around his knees and the other-moved with care by Parker-went under his head.

It felt like someone was stabbing him in the gut, twisting the knife to cause maximum pain and damage.

He should know. It was a very distinctive pain.

Parker and Hardison were murmured voices above him, their bond letting him know just how worried they actually were, despite their soothing sounds.

He drifted, riding the waves of pain, sometimes hearing his mates’ words, sometimes not.

He couldn’t unbend, and that’s what worried them the most.

Soon though, there were hands-not his mates’ hands-touching him, prodding him. Eliot moved to punch the guy, but Parker caught his hand.

Not that he’d have been able to put much force behind it.

Questions. Stranger asking questions.

Eliot clamped his jaws shut, refused to answer. If he didn’t answer, they’d hurt him more, but Eliot Spencer never talked, not ever. No torture could-

“Eliot.”  _Hardison_. Had they captured Hardison too? “Baby, I’m fine. We’re in the apartment. You were in a lot of pain when you woke up. You started... you started bleeding, sweetie. Bad. This is Michael, and he’s an EMT. His partner is Ariel. Please answer their questions, baby. For me and Parker.”

Bleeding? Why was he  _bleeding_? Unless he really  _had_  been stabbed...

“Eliot, this is Michael. I’m going to touch your arm now, okay? I need to take your pulse.”

Eliot nodded, and words started fading out around him again. He caught snatches of conversation-

“-pulse is thready-”

“-slower than I thought it-”

“-still elevated-”

“-of you know his blood type?”

Eliot breathed slowly, trying to meditate and find his center, compartmentalize the pain like he’d been taught. He tried to relax his legs, but the pain got worse whenever he did, so he stopped trying.

More pieces of broken conversation slid into his brain.

“-appendix?”

“No, he had that removed-”

“-possibly be pregnant?”

A short silence, and Eliot stopped listening. There was no way in  _hell_  he was pregnant. None. Moreau had seen to that.

“-signs of miscarriage.”

“No way, there’s no damn way-”

“-actually-”

Even through his pain, Eliot had been doing his own mental calculations. He’d had a knife wound get infected about three months ago. The antibiotics the doc had given him had indeed sent him into heat.

Shit.

But surely-

“-possible his tubes were only tied-”

“-three months-”

And then Hardison was at his head, stroking sweat-drenched hair back from his face.

“Hey, baby. The EMTs are going to move you onto a stretcher to get you in the ambulance. They can only take one more person in the back. Who would you rather-”

“Parker.” Eliot squeezed Hardison’s hand, trying to tell him without words that he wanted  _both_  of them with him, but Parker’s pheromones were helping somewhat and he didn’t  _want_  the pain, even though he probably  _deserved_ it-

Hardison just squeezed his hand back and pressed a kiss to his damp forehead, moving back to allow Parker access as the two techs shifted positions to lift him.

“You’ll be there?” Eliot said between panted breaths.

“I’m already on my way, baby.”

Then the technicians picked him up, and Eliot let the pain wrench him under.


	2. Hardison

Hardison white-knuckled Lucille’s steering wheel all the way to the nearest ER. He muttered a mantra under his breath the entire way.

“Please be okay, please be okay.”

He slid into a parking spot just as the sirens behind him announced the ambulance’s arrival. He ran to the back doors, helping Parker down as she kept her fingers locked tightly with Eliot’s.

And then they were ripped away from him as the gurney was pushed through the swinging doors and they were left to answer the staff’s questions as best they could.

No, they didn’t know precisely what year or what country he’d had his sterilization in.

No, they didn’t  _think_  he could be pregnant, but Parker’s pheromones and hormones were screwy, and Hardison didn’t always wrap it or take a tab, so it was possible.

No,  _they_  were his only family. Well, almost. There were Nate and Sophie to consider after all.

They didn’t know if he’d had his appendix removed, but he had a scar similar to Hardison’s who  _had_ , so-

“Are either of you Parker or Alec?”

Hardison nearly jumped out of his seat, pushing by the scrub-wearing woman asking them questions. He heard more than saw Parker slowly stand behind him.

The doctor-was it a doctor? He didn’t really care at this point-motioned for them to follow with her head. They did, stepping into an empty exam room. Hardison reached behind him and twined Parker’s fingers with his. The doctor opened her mouth to say something, but Hardison gasped, pain ripping through his heart. He heard Parker inhale sharply through her nose.

“Mr. Hardison, are you alright?” The doctor’s concerned voice broke through the cloud around him.

The pain went on, so he knew Eliot was alive, but he was hurting, and hurting bad. Not physically anymore, the drugs had kicked in. But something was  _wrong_ , and Hardison couldn’t do anything to fix it.

“I will be. What’s wrong with our mate?”

The doctor-Dr. Laghari, he finally saw-didn’t even bat an eyelid at the plural mate usage. A point in her favor.

“Your mate is pregnant, but unfortunately, because his tubes were tied improperly, it is an ectopic pregnancy. The fetus was forming outside of his left Fallopian tube. There is no chance of survival for the fetus, but as Mr. Spencer is currently drugged, we need your alpha’s permission to do the surgery to save  _his_  life.”

No coddling. Another point in her favor.

“The fetus ruptured some major vessels near his Fallopian tube. We need to go in  _now_  to stop the bleeding, or we’re going to lose him too.”

Hardison couldn’t speak, could barely process.

Thank whatever gods were above for his girl.

“Do it.”

The doctor nodded, then was gone in a swirl of white coat.

They sat and waited, waited to hear news of their mate.

Hardison could tell when Eliot was put under for the surgery. The pain in his heart lessened, but didn’t disappear.

Eventually a nurse escorted them to the surgical waiting room. Hardison pulled Parker down onto his lap as he sat, wrapping his arms around her and resting his cheek on her shoulder as she called Sophie.

It took four excruciating hours and thirty-seven agonizing minutes, but Dr. Laghari finally came back to speak with them.

“He’s still coming out of sedation, but he pulled through. We had to take the entire left ovary, and then we noticed that there was another fetus implanted into the right fallopian. I’m afraid we wound up having to remove it and his uterus entirely as well before it ruptured.

“Mr. Spencer-that is, Eliot-will never have another heat, or any chance of a litter. His hormones and pheromones should drop to beta levels over the next few months.

“I am very sorry, Parker, Alec.”

They didn’t care about any of that, just that Eliot was okay. Hardison nearly said that aloud, but Parker’s elbow dug into his ribs and a blast of shushing came through their bond.

“Will we still be bonded to him?” Was what came out instead.

“I see no reason why you shouldn’t.” Dr. Laghari said, firm confidence in her voice. “It takes more than a hormone or pheromone drop to break a bond.”

It was then Hardison noticed a faint scar on the doctor’s neck, just above the line of her scrubs. He smiled.

“Thank you for taking care of him, Dr. Laghari. For not treating us like freaks for being what we are.”

It took her a moment, but when the doctor smiled, it was brilliant. “Thank you for treating your omega as a person. For treating other omegas as people. We get quite a few people through here telling us you all helped them, and that their alignment didn’t matter.

“We actually had some of the best people we employ come in on their days off to help your partner. And there’s this, too. Follow me?”

Parker jumped nimbly off Hardison’s lap, then helped him stand. His legs were suddenly weak. They followed her into a different room, and they were confronted with a huge mass of people.

People they’d helped. About half of them had bandages around their arms.

“Some soul at the reception counter put the word out. They all came to donate blood, just in case one of the “Robin Hoods of Portland” needed it.”

It was most of the people they’d helped in the Pacific Northwest over the past few years.

Genna and her mother.

Toby, who’d brought food from his school for everyone, including them, Hardison saw.

He was touched, to say the least.

“Thank you. All of you.” Was what he managed to choke out.

They understood.


	3. Parker

Eliot still wasn’t waking up.

Parker had listened to what the doctors had said, that the kind of emergency surgery they’d had to perform had been hard on his body, that even with the transfusions he’d lost a lot of blood.

A lot.

But it had been almost two days, and the nurses were starting to give her and Hardison pitying looks.

Why wouldn’t Eliot wake up?

She was perched in the abysmally uncomfortable armchair next to Eliot’s bed, while Hardison was curled around him actually in the tiny bed.

She’d washed his hair this morning, and it lay drying on his pillow. Even though his skin retained its tan, Eliot seemed... hollow, somehow. Parker picked up his limp hand, tracing the blunt swell of his knuckles with the sensitive pads of her fingers. These hands, these scarred, strong hands, were nearly lifeless. They were cool to the touch, so Parker wrapped both of her hands around his one, chafing it gently to warm it.

His hand gripped hers with in a weak gesture. Parker froze as his hand relaxed. She stared at Eliot’s face, looking for  _some_  sign that he was there. Were those furrows in his brow?

Eliot’s hand gripped hers again, with more strength this time.

“Hardison.” He didn’t stir. Her second “Hardison,” was louder. Alec blinked up at her sleepily. “Eliot is holding my hand. And his worry lines are back.”

Hardison sat up immediately, hopping off the bed and poking his head out the door, calling for the duty nurse. Just as a flood of people entered the room, Parker heard the sweetest sound of her life.

“ _Dammit_ , Hardison...”

.0.o.0.o.0.

He took the news better than she thought he would. It could have been the drugs running through his veins, but the bond never lied, and it said while Eliot was still hurting, he was handling things.

Even if she heard him crying quietly in the night, sometimes. One of them, either her or Hardison, always stayed the night with him at the hospital, and when Eliot finally got the all clear to leave they offered to do the same.

For the first time since they’d bonded, Eliot stayed at his old apartment in the city.

She gave it three days, and when he still hadn’t emerged from his building, Parker scaled it, then dropped down the side and in his window. The lock was child’s play.

He was passed out on his stomach in the middle of his living room floor, clad in only his underwear, and reeking of booze. She rolled him over carefully into the recovery position, wincing slightly at the sight of the bright and angry looking skin near the sutures on his abdomen.

Parker sent a pulse down her bond to Hardison, gently waking him before she called.

 _“‘Sup, babe?”_  His voice was craggy with sleep, but he was coherent.

“I’m at Eliot’s. You should probably get here soon.” She hung up amidst his cursing protests.

Hardison got there twenty minutes later, half in pajamas and half in street clothes, the night’s whiskers still on his chin. Seeing Eliot on the floor, he dropped to his knees beside her, one hand reaching out to stroke Eliot’s hair back from his cheek.

“He’s going to a therapist, as soon as we sober him up.”

Parker just nodded. As much as she hated shrinks, Eliot needed more than she or Hardison or even Sophie could provide.

“As soon as he sobers up,” she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end of this particular story! I just have to finish it, lol.


End file.
